


What could have been

by LannisterQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, au where cersei is happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 12:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17767085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LannisterQueen/pseuds/LannisterQueen
Summary: In complete honest, this was not how Cersei Lannister had hoped her life would be, no.It was much better.





	What could have been

**Author's Note:**

> This small drabble was originally posted on Tumblr as a birthday gift to wineinthewidow, two years ago. I've made some small changes, but it is still dedicated to her. Hope you guys enjoy it!

                  In complete honesty,  **this** wasn’t how she had hoped her life would be.

                  Cersei had waited to be  **queen** for a long time, promise made to her child self never forgotten — she was supposed to marry Prince Rhaegar, had waited for it, dreamed of it, hoped it would happen until he was wed to Elia Martell instead. Difficult not to doubt father’s promise then, the heir to the Throne married to the Dornish princess; doubt met with cold reassurance she  _would_ be queen still, though no word to tell her  **how**.

                  Perhaps lord Tywin hadn’t known himself how he’d have that happen, perhaps it all had been carefully planned and circumstance only favored him ( **the gods** , some might say, but not Tywin and neither Cersei, not for a long time, not ever since Joanna had been taken from them). The queen herself wouldn’t know, however certain she always was that her lord father would’ve found a way  _regardless_.  **The Lannisters always paid their debts** , and a slight such as that Aerys had purposefully done would never be easily forgiven, neither would it be forgotten.

                  Little good would do to dwell on it, however. Aerys Targaryen was  _dead_ , and Rhaegar was gone as well, their entire dynasty extinguished and buried in the grave they dug with their own mistakes. To be sure, Aerys’ madness might have started it, driving him away of all allies and making him enemies he could not face alone; Rhaegar’s folly sealed their fate, still. That he’d have slighted his wife, her family and her land merely to crown a girl of no extraordinary features  _Queen of Love and Beauty_  had been terribly foolish, though kidnapping Lyanna Stark had been much worse a choice (and she remembered thinking perhaps had  **she**  been his wife instead of the feeble dornish princess, the silver prince would never need to stray towards the little she wolf).

                   **This** wasn’t how she had hoped it would be, no.

                  It was much  _better_.

                  Some had been outraged at the news of Jaime Lannister backstabbing the Mad King (how  _dishonorable_ for a sworn brother of the Kingsguard to maculate his white cloak with his King’s own blood); a few, bolder ones had praised his attitude ( _someone_ ought to do it, after all, and ending the Mad King before he’d cause more harm was a  **brave** choice, noble even). None expected he’d seat in that Throne  _himself_ , but Tywin had different plans and an opportunity to use. Didn’t matter if it begun as  _Robert’s_ Rebellion; it ended with the fall of one dynasty, and the ascension of the  **lions**.  

                  Promise had been kept, and she  _was_ queen at last;  **queen** , and wed to her other half, to the one who shared her body and mind and heart and soul. Perhaps not the most suitable strategy to acquire the backing of other Great Houses, considering wedding each of them into to others would have filled such purpose much better — still a fine way to make that bold statement that placed the lions  **above** the other beasts, to show they answered to none other than  _themselves_ , as the dragons had before them.

                  The commoners had been glad to end the war and no longer have a Mad King, content enough to receive the new monarchs with cheers, however judgmental or disapproving most opinions insisted on being. Years past of said joy, of course they were slowly forgetting how  _good_ their rulers were compared to the one who sat the Iron Throne before them, but the opinion of the  **sheep** mattered little to her.

                  They had switched places before, when they were  _children_ and none but their lady mother could tell them apart if they dressed in each other’s clothes. The sword and fighting remained unreachable to her as they had been ever since the differences between the twins became too apparent, but Cersei enjoyed taking her brother’s place now more than ever. Jaime was hardly fondof the politics, of sitting in that Iron Chair and trying to act diplomatic; a duty was a duty, and he’d attend to it from time to time. Even so, it was a task he gladly left to Cersei, and one she was eager to perform. Atop the throne, it did not matter that she was a woman. No more playing the dutiful daughter or the blushing maid; there she could be a lioness and a queen and they all had to submit to her roar.

                  Jaime was king, as Joffrey would be after him; the two of them, as well as Tommen and Myrcella, would always be the causes of her greatest joys and even greater worries, bringing that  _weakness_ that was love into her life. (How  _wouldn’t_ she love them? Jaime was part of her, Joffrey, Myrcella and Tommen her precious children. It was no  **choice** , really, loving each and all of them so deeply and completely.)

                   _She had it all_ , and at times, it was precisely this that caused her to question everything, worry,  **despair**. That Throne was hers as much as it was Jaime’s.  _He_ was hers as much as she was his. Their beautiful lion cubs were healthy, strong. Would they be strong  _enough_? Words of the prophecy being wrong did not undo what that seven times damned witch got  _right_ ; was she right about the fate of her cubs? (Had she been right about the little demon and the  **threat** he posed?) For how long could she hope to have it all, to have her family, to have her Throne, to have that undeniable  **power** that placed her above all else, above any woman or man who dared cross her?

                  Not knowing could be  _terrifying_. 

                   **Knowing** might have been worse.

                  For now, she could take solace in all three of her cubs safely (and blissfully ignorant of such thoughts) sitting behind her and the feel of the cold, sharp seat beneath her.

                  _Power is power._ And right now, all that power was  **hers**.


End file.
